Grain Elevators are tall trucks
that let the road
approach them
I’ve always been a prose guy.
(More Pentateuch than Psalms.)
But I’ve always held the nag that I need to get into poetry (along with Jazz and Russian novels).
This is as good a start as any.
Short poems.
Straight to the point.
Haikus + Americana.
I’ve tried writing some myself, when I started this blog.
I bought this book around that time.
But buying and reading are different things.
So here I am, a decade later.
Not sure if I grok poetry any better.
That will be a matter of trying.
Again and again.
Reflected upsidedown
in the sunset lake, pines,
Pointing to infinity
As for this book itself.
Jack successfully taps into the vividness of Haiku.
It’s a snapshot of mid-century America.
Unfortunately it’s also a snapshot of Jack’s unraveling.
I need to revisit this book in a few months.
Maybe I’ll better enjoy the art when I’ve become inured to his sad story.
Desk cluttered
with mail—
My mind is quiet